


Let's Keep it Virtual

by hedgerowhag



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Flirting, Drunkenness, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Texting, and hux's flirting in the form of ignoring, featuring: ben's mesmerising ass, text message fic anyone?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 02:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13777938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgerowhag/pseuds/hedgerowhag
Summary: At the beginning of his freshman year in college, Hux receives a text message from an unknown number asking for notes from a lecture. He didn't know that by answering he would become the Help-Me-I'm-A-Mess hotline.





	Let's Keep it Virtual

**Author's Note:**

> title is from 'let's keep it virtual' by temporex

[Unsaved number: (1) message]

 

[20:14] >> i NEED the copis of handouts from intro peac lectur ASAP

[20:21] > im sorry, who are you??

[20:22] >> we are both in peace studis DO U HAVE THE PAGES OR NAH???????????

[20:22] > who gave you my number

[20:24] >> A FRIEND BC I KNO NOT ONE MTOFUCJR WHO DOES THIS CLASS. NOW CAN U FKIN SEND ME THE PAGES???

[20:27] > have you bothered to look on the system?

[20:27] >> MOTHERFUCKER !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[20:31] > fine

[20:40] > [images attached]

 

 

[13:05] >> missed peac lecture. was it important???

[13:20] > ??????

[13:22] >> ????? WHY are u ???? at me????????? MAN JUST ANSWER

[13:22] > its week 5

[13:23] >> POINT??????????????????/

[13:25] > what have u even bothered to turn up to??

[13:32] > no it wasnt important. it started 20 mins late anyway. about 10 minutes were used to find the audio button

[13: 34] >> :D

 

 

[08:34] >> how tf are there no free sockets outside the hall

[08:37] >> tf is this???? THIS IS NOT THE DEMOCRACY IVE VOTED FOR

[08:40] > wow! welcome to the class! what is it like to actually try and make use of ur tuition fees??

[08:41] >> BIIIIIIIIIIICH

[08:45] > try the 2nd eng lit lounge

[08:45] >> thANKS BABE

 

Students are speckled across the grey fold out seats of the auditorium behind desks that are barely wide enough to hold up a receipt scrap. A pen gasping for life is squeaking on the rolling white board at the head of the theatre. The slurp of coffee through a straw briefly triggers an awakening among the slumps of hoodies behind laptops before resettling.

Hux’s hand shakes as he twists on the cap of his thermos behind the seat sheltering him from the view of the lectern. His is looking over his shoulder, the turtleneck collar of his sweater rolled up to his lips to hide yawns. Foggy eyed girls have gaggled together at the back of the theatre, eyes puffy and hair bundled high. Pens are drooping from their hands.

None of them could have sent those texts.

The flannel buttoned boys with acne studded chins don’t seem like better candidates either. Their issue with proximity is enough to convince Hux they would not lift a hand to text a person in their _class_. Much less call them “babe”.

Hux chews on the dry flakes on his lips as he turns back to the front of the auditorium.

 

 

[05:01] >> avid the side staixcre n dorm go lk ifnut care about it shoes

[07:58] > oh

[08:00] > meatball pizza is not a popular choice for predrinks I must say

[16:08] >> bitch

[19:34] > that is such a crude word

[19:40] >> would u prefer cuuurr?

 

 

[10:11] >> im hungry

[10:20] >> holy shit someone put this FUCKER out of his misery anD CLICK ON THE FULL SCREEN BUTTON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[11:23] >> r u actually taking notes

[11:23] >> is that why u r ignoring me???????

[11:25] >> bitch

[11:56] >> im still hungry

[11:57] >> i think my stomach is going to turn inside out

[12:00] >> ooommfffgggg IT HUUUUURRRRTTTTSSSS

[12:24] > are u still on campus

[12:24] >> WHY WERE U IGNORING ME??????/

[12:25] >> b yeh. am here till 5

[12:32] > check the top of the vending machine in the student union lobby

[12:48] >> SWEET! i didnt even hafta knock ur lunch money out of u

[12:48] >> THANKS BITCH!!!!!

 

 

[22:01] >> how many times do u think it takes for u to piss in some ns apple juice for them to notice

[22:34] > what is wrong with u???????????

[00:13] >> concert tickets. thE FUCKER RUINED MY CON CERT TICKETS

[00:13] >> SO HE WILL DRINK PISS UNTIL HE DIES

 

 

Hux heaves air in and out of his nose, feeling it force against the congestion. The blankets are kicked down to the foot of the bed; Hux knows he will get cold again in a moment, and then the sweat will start building up – soaking into the comforter. His pyjama t-shirt is hanging from the bed post like a sad drooping flag.

The phone is buzzing on the mattress, screen flickering with new messages. Hux’s hands are clammy and too warm to bear holding the metal casing of his phone. But he recognises that unsaved number. He has even forgotten to think all of this weird; Hux’s number has been circulated by students for classes and societies. The digits have “government major, peace studies minor” attached to them. There isn’t any use trying to track down how it spread.

Hux rubs his sticky hands on his chest, feeling the warm hollows of his ribs and the disappointment of his soft stomach. His tongue tastes of medicine and his head is light, floating in and out of wanting to press ‘call’.

 

 

[22:59] >> is a flushed condom gonna get the rsa on my ass

[23:23] > is there something wrong with the traditional method of disposing garbage?

[23:24] >> A TOILET!!!! IS ALL I HAVE ON THE RUN!!!!!!

[23:31] > sounds like a perfect water balloon opportunity

[23:32] >> BITCH!!! u r more brutal than igave u credit for

 

 

[07:40] >> what theatre are we in again

[07:44] > C

[07:51] >> thks, fellow mothefucker

 

 

[23:09] >> whats the cheapest place to get business cards printed

[23:10] >> u seem like the type of prson to kno

[23:53] > <http://lmgtfy.com/?q=where+to+print+business+cards+in+manhattan>

[00:12] >> BITCH!!!!!!!????????????????????????

 

Business cards flicker onto the floor as Hux clears them off the coffee table in the student union with his laptop. _VOTE VADER!!! JOIN THE DARK SIDE!!! WE HAVE ESPRESSO!!!!!!_ A comically evil figure is stamped onto the smooth card with one thumb out while espresso is poured from a dainty cup onto the grill of the masked mouth. Hux holds himself from reaching for his phone.

 

 

[14:11] >> happy eat-a-napkin day

[15:06] > happy pretend-to-like-ur-family-because-u-know-u-will-inherit-all-of-their-property-after-they-stuff-themselves-with-mashed-potato-till-bursting day

[15:09] >> SHIIIIt!!! u r really going for IT

[15:46] > I am in the holiday spirit

[16:01] >> i like it

 

 

[11:53] >> DOMINOS IS GIVING OUT FREE PIZZA?????? WTF?????? I LOV E THIS FUKIN COLLEGE BULLSHIT!!!!!!!! DNT BE A WET SOCK. GET HR NOW

[12:20] > get a friend

[12:21] >> BICH?????????//

[12:25] >> get URSELF HERE NOW

[12:32] > cant

[12:33] >> whatever

 

 

[13:45] >> bitch??? u there??? is this appropriate for a christmas party club night????

[13:45] >> [image attached]

Hux bolts up from the library desk. The old padded backing of his chair creaks and rattles against the metal rod frame. His phone is slipping from his burning hands, clattering onto the notebooks, screen blazing with colour. Hux heaves himself over it.

The lunch breaks are always busiest in the library and Hux knows he is watched as he picks up his phone and slides it under the desk to open the text again. He taps on the photo.

The gun-metal grey sequin studded material gleams out of the pixels. Barely a scrap of material and dripping off the hanger like mercury, held between the fingertips of a hand with scrapes on the knuckles. The palm is wide and solid, embedded with ink stains. The nails are chewed off and the skin is vibrant with a tan. Black strings and festival bands wrap around the wrist that is crisscrossed with random scratches.

Unless Hux is misjudging, this is a man who is stood amid of an alternative-avant garde boutique, holding this tiny party dress. Hux sees a blurry flock of students among the bright fabrics and orange white walls behind the focus of the photo, turned from the camera.

Hux leans over his phone as he types, tongue between his teeth and chest holding onto air feverishly.

[13:52] > is that for urself?

[13:53] >> DUH!

[13:53] > its nice

[13:54] > dont rip it

[14:06] >> <33

 

No more pictures. Not from the changing rooms. Not from the party. Hux had enough self-pity not to search for Christmas parties hosted by clubs and go creeping through them.

But damn it, he was so close.

 

 

[11:19] >> I vomite d in his shoes

[11:19] >> oooMFG

[11:40] > tasteful

[14:01] >>  I cn hear the front door

[14:03] >> oommffgggg????? he is leaving

[14:09] >> THE BITCH LEFT W   SHOE FULL OF VOMIT????????? WTF????

[16:19] > i thought i was ‘bitch’

[16:22] >> mmm is someone jealous of the dick I just got ;)

[16:23] >> it was sooooooo good its all im gonna have on my mind

[17:51] > clearly it was so ‘good’ u repaid him with reeking shoes. lovely

[18:00] >> i only cared for his dick <3

 

 

[06:50] >> can u stand in for me today

[07:19] > ?????

[07:33] >> pls

[14:00] > [images attached]

 

[08:51] >> i cant get out of bed

[09:02] > cant help u with that

[09:05] >> can u record the class 4 me or smthn

[09:10] > no

[09:10] >> pls

[09:16] > fuck off

[09:18] >> this isnt my fault

[09:22] > FUCK OFF

[10:47] >>  THEN EAT SHIT AND DIEU FICL

 

 

[01:48] >> u really cant wait to get urself all over me, can u

[01:50] > excuse me???

[01:52] >> wrong person

[01:52] >> bye

[02:00] > “get urself all over me”. WOW. Truly a romantic

[02:10] >> dnt get so thirsty, bitch. u arent getting this dick

 

 

Sweat is sticking to the collar of Hux’s coat that hangs loose off his shoulders, the belt undone and pockets drooping with change. His footsteps are swinging to and thro. His teeth are jammed together like the metal of his key inside his palm.

Hux knows he has had too much to drink, tethered on the line between sick and pleasantly shaky. He is too warm underneath his own skin, despite the night being so cold it burns.

The lights of the staircase are blinking ahead of Hux as he hauls himself up along the railing. On the landing above him, the doors open and swing into the wall. Feet slap on the floor. Hux swerves his head up, seeing soles skid past the rails in grey-black socks. There are naked legs with muscular calves and soft thighs. Bunched fabric is hold against the groin by large hands that lead up to wide shoulders and a full chest.

Hux’s eyes are rammed full of exposed skin as a man blind with giggles runs down the steps, piloting himself with one hand on the railing. He isn’t aware of Hux until their bodies meet.

“Fuckin’ _watch it_!” Hux manages to blurt as his hands become full of burning skin, soft and plush as he pushes back. “You could knock someone’s eye out with that!” He instantly reprimands himself for his drunk tongue.

“Oh yeah—?” the voice is heavy and too close to Hux’s ear. He feels the heat of the palm on his elbow and the knuckles against his hip that retain some modesty by gripping bunched fabric. “Maybe you _wanted_ me to run into you, huh?”

Hux puts his weight behind the next shove and socked feet slip back as his eyes adjust to the red-flushed grin and black scattered hair. There is a boyish stubble that has barely grown in and a nose that Hux wants to pinch. But his eyes don’t catch there for long, slipping back down to the wide chest flushed with sweat.

“If you keep staring like that, I’ll have to assume you want to jump me,” the naked runaway says, cocking his hip to give Hux a better look of the juncture between his thigh and groin with dark coiled hair. A red lip is bitten and Hux is looked up without a scrap of shame.

The door on the landing opens and the runaway steps around Hux with a smirk. “Not tonight though,” he says. “You can climb my dick when I get your number.”

Hux is left with a wink and a sight that pulls air from his chest like sandpaper. He wishes he was drunk enough to chase down those stairs after the pasty ass and catch his teeth on it.

Voices swim in and out of the doorway on the landing above. The lock clicks in place and the footsteps dwindle.

 

 

[08:14] >> im not going out in HTAT

[08:20] >> itWAS 60 YESTERDY

[09:01] > im not going either

[09:07] >> COMRADE!!! organised snow ball fight YAY OR NAY

[09:32] > im going back to bed

[16:05] >> THAT ISNT SNOW ITS ICE ITS FUCKIGN ICE

[17:46] >> BITCCCH GAVE ME A FUCKING BLAK EYE IM GOJNG TO FUCKING GUT HER

 

 

[03:57] >> what id I said I don t haveny money dn I need a taxi i

Sounds swell in the corridor. It’s a Saturday night— Morning. Whichever. People are dragging in from the clubs and bars, thumbing change and IDs with peeling plastic. Hux hears girls knocking their undone heels on the walls as they search for support. He is staring at his phone, sitting on the floor with the desk lamp dragged down beside him to hide the glow from the door with the barrier of his bed.

Hux taps on the text bar, dropping his pen onto the floor.

[04:02] > Christ. get a friend

[04:03] >> they left

[04:04] > u are on your own?????

[04:04] >> y

[04:05] > fucks sake

{04:06] >> why r u wake bitch

[04:08] > im getting u an uber. Where are u? stay beside the club or wherever the fuck u are

[04:11] >> Armitage???n thats u r name right? I didnt believe m friend when  she sia dt

[04:12] > WHERE ARE U

[04:15] >> [image attached]

[04:16] > u could have just typed the name

[04:16] >> cant see it

[04:20] > a car will be with u in 10. Silver Mercedes. License plate ending 2445

 

There is a patch of sweat on the phone screen where Hux has been tapping. His back is burrowed against the side of the bed’s metal underbelly and his chin is drooping from his arm.

[Unsaved number: (1) message]

[04:34] >> got t

[04:34] > good

[04:37] >> thank u

[04:37] >> <3

 

 

[12:58] >> u do labor movemnts rite/??

[13:34] > yes

[13:37] >> i dnt get it

[14:40] > don’t get what?

[14:41] >> ANY OF ITTTT!!!!!!!!!!!

[14:48] > …

[14:49] >> DON’T U FICKIGN DOT DOT ME!!!!!!!

[14:50] >> I DON’T GET ANY OF THIS FUCKING SHIT AND PROF IS NOT REPLYING TO FUCKING EMAILS

[14:52] > the assignment is due in a week and a half

[14:53] >> I kno

[14:53] >> pls help

[15:01] > meet me in the student union in 30 mins

[15:03] >> ew

[15:05] > fine then struggle on your own

[15:05] >> I WAS KIDDING

[15:06] >> where will u b

[15:08] > im at the window corner. Be here at half past or im gone

[15:08] >> k babe

 

The coffee cup has warmed a patch into the edge of Hux’s laptop. He has been scratching the paper rim, hardly trying to bring words onscreen into focus. His mouth feels raw and jittery feet cold. He has been staring between his reflection in the monitor and the lunch crowds in the union café, twitching at any movement in his direction.

Hux mushes himself into the faux leather couch, the collar of his parka scraping his cheeks. The clock is skipping onto twenty until four and Hux is buzzing under his skin to stand and leave; he has been on campus since eight and all he wants is a bed to rub his coffee-sweat sticky face into.

The doors of the side entrance into the café slide apart. Hux’s eyes are shallowly skimming over the text on his screen, sliding off to watch a pair of Dr Martens clap across the floor. The stretched-out skinny jeans tucked into the unlaced boots lead up to thighs that are rebelling against the stitches and the undone belt of a leather jacket that looks like a cosmic cliché that Hux wants to yank at.

The rain speckled grey hood is pulled back from a lopsided mess of black and the man turns. His torn-up backpack swings and his sleepy brown eyes slip over the slouched figures at the tables. Hux knows those lips, even without the sex flush. Now, he can see the moles and freckles when he is not watching the blush creep over his cheeks. The stubble isn’t gone, or the pout.

Hux drags his eyes from the collar of the man’s hoodie and pokes at the fingertip smudges on his laptop screen with the cuffs of his sweater.

“Armitage?”

The backpack drops onto the couch beside Hux. He looks up at the askew smirk. “Yes?” he says.

“Guess I had your number after all.” The runaway plants himself into the cushions, an arm draped around the back of the couch and legs stretched out onto the slouched coffee table where Hux’s folders shudder. A hand is held out toward him. “Ben.”

Hux reaches back, automatically, and his fingers are gripped, locked behind the torn knuckles. Somewhere, in the rear of his mind, he is trying to fit this man into the sequin dress he saw hanging from the rack. Did he wear heels? Or just a pair of docs.

“It’s _Hux_ , actually,” he corrects.

“With that attitude you are,” says Ben, letting go of his hand. “Bitch.”

“Cunt.”

Hux sees Ben size him up as he closes his laptop, like on the staircase – this time with a measure of clothes more. Underneath those chipped teeth, Ben’s bottom lip is flaring up in an array of reds.

Hux can’t help himself. “So, who was it that you were running from in nothing but socks?

Ben’s face sparks up. He leans in, eyes moving over Hux, fixating at random points. “Oh and why such interest, bitch?”

“Maybe, I want to know why someone would send you out ass naked. In whose fucking shoes did you vomit this time, huh?”

“Who says I’m got sent away? _Maybe_ , I just got bored and decided to leave early.”

Hux shifts forward. “And what if I offered to give you a better night?” he asks.

Ben’s lips pull wide, like he is between pushing down the smile and succumbing to it, showing his fucked-up teeth and red tongue. “How about several?” His wide, warm hand is on Hux’s knee. It’s nice, but Hux’s hands between Ben’s thighs would be better.

“One for every time you demanded notes from me?”

Ben laughs, letting his teeth peek through. His hand shies up higher. “I don’t even care about that class.”

“Flirt,” scoffs Hux, pulling the hand away from his thigh to play with the rough palm.

“How did I never see you in class before?” Ben asks as he watches Hux draw his nail along the lines of his skin.

“Maybe you shoulder have bothered turning up at least once.”

“Why? I have you.”

 

Hux’s hands are underneath the hem of Ben’s leather jacket, pulling on the belt of his jeans as he watches the key Ben took from his hand when he wasn’t quick enough scrape across the lock. Missing again and again. Hux feels for the elastic band of Ben’s underwear, pressing his fingers down to the warm skin that has been saved from the chilled rain. Ben is pushing back against him, letting Hux feel the curve of his ass where his hand is caught between the denim and underwear.

The lock clicks and Ben is grabbing Hux’s wrist, pulling him through into the soft glow of the desk lamp. Hux feels drunk, hardly managing to keep his footsteps straight as his hands fall over Ben.

The door closes.

 

[10:03] > Benjamin. did you actually leave naked?

[10:19] >> nooo…………

[10:21] >> just borrowed some stuff from u

[10:22] >> guess u will have to come over and pick it up now

[10:22] >> ;)

[10:27] > u CUNT

[10:28] >> lov u too bitch <3

 

 

 


End file.
